


interlude

by runninohhoney



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Gen, Singing, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 17:19:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16223726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runninohhoney/pseuds/runninohhoney
Summary: He blinks once, then twice. He had forgotten singing is something humans do, that the voice served more purposes than yelling orders and crying because of the pain and celebrating the victories. He hasn't heard singing in… he doesn't know, months maybe. Singing is not a thing one does in a war.Or, Alex sings on the way home.





	interlude

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [interludio](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11680311) by [runninohhoney](https://archiveofourown.org/users/runninohhoney/pseuds/runninohhoney). 



> I read somewhere that Harry usually sang during his scenes in Dunkirk and I wanted to write a quick drabble about it :)
> 
> This work is a translation of my fic, which is originally in Spanish. Any kind corrections are highly welcomed!

The winds hits their faces like a whip as the two of them approach the opening of the hatch. Immediately, the ginger guy is there, his brows furrowed.

“You can't be up here”, he starts to explain for what it must be the millionth time, but Tommy interrupts him before he can say anything else.

“We just want to see the mountains.”

Something changes in the ginger's expression. He understands, Tommy supposes. He probably understands this is the first time in weeks they can actually  _ look  _ around the place they are in, without having to worry about German airplanes or armed soldiers. Finally, the ginger guy shrugs and centers his attention back to the wheel, and now Tommy can look at the mountains.

There's something so simplistic about them that makes them extremely beautiful. For the first time in what it feels like forever, he feels at peace. Next to him, Alex seems to be experiencing similar thoughts. Tommy casts a look at his mate's calm face, and he notices how different he looks compared to the man he had been in the boat, or the ship, or the sea. A part of him boils with anger when he remembers, and wishes the ginger kid, the old man, the pilot could know who he really is. But there's another part who doesn't really care about it, who really is Alex and who is not, or what would everyone think about him. There's a reason why they're here together, why he still hasn't moved his arm from the railing, where their elbows meet in a firm and warm touch.

The afternoon sun isn't enough to make him feel warm, but the light and and the soft wind on his face alone make him feel better than he has felt in days. He hasn't seen the sun in at least a week, and Dunkirk's hell has made it seem like an eternity. Tommy can't remember the last time he stared at the landscape just because he thought it was beautiful, or the last time he didn't spend every second of his free time into getting more sleep to gain energy for tomorrow's battles. Tomorrow, always thinking about tomorrow. Tomorrow, Tommy will be home. Thinking about it makes him quirk his lips on a small smile.

Out of nowhere, a deep sound comes dangerously close to Tommy. His trained reflexes make him turn his head immediately to the source of the noise, and he feels a little surprised when he sees it comes from Alex. Alex, whose eyes and lips are closed and his throat vibrates, almost imperceptibly, but Tommy can see it. It takes him a few seconds to connect the dots and realize Alex is  _ singing. _

He blinks once, then twice. He had forgotten singing is something humans do, that the voice served more purposes than yelling orders and crying because of the pain and celebrating the victories. He hasn't heard singing in… he doesn't know, months maybe. Singing is not a thing one does in a war. He guesses sometimes nurses must sing, but if they do then it's never when he's around. He hasn't heard a song in so, so long.

Alex murmurs quietly, as if he's doing it for himself, but there's no other sounds around besides the waves crashing in the sea and the faint conversations several feets away, so he can clearly hear him. And Tommy thinks he recognizes the song, he thinks he hears parts of the lullabies his mom sang to him and his sister when they were little. And singing is not exclusively for women, Tommy remembers. There are male singers, the ones that get on stage with a jazz band behind them that he sometimes heard on the radio - do they still do that at home? But he had never heard a man sing outside a show, with no reason behind him, and that has him a little confused.

The ginger guy - the old man had called him Peter, Tommy finally remembers, his name is Peter -, Peter realizes Alex is singing and he turns to exchange a look with Tommy. There's a question on his skeptical eyes and raised eyebrows, and Tommy shrugs, because this is alright. Alex is not a bad singer. Tommy doesn't know a lot about music but he can realize when someone does not sing in tune, and Alex is not like that. His voice is dark and naturally deep and it's so alike his speaking voice that it makes him a little uncomfortable, but it's fine. The song is nice and they're looking at the beautiful mountains under the sunset sun, and they're going home. So Tommy directs his face to the sun and close his eyes, and lets the soft movement of the boat and Alex's voice soothe him.

After some minutes, Alex stops singing. Tommy reasons that he obviously can't keep it forever, but even then he feels a little empty. The sun has now completely disappeared and the wind gets colder every minute, and he doesn't have to squint to see the land at his left side that is his home. When he turns around and his eyes meet Peter's, who has also been staring at the mountains, he realizes they've experienced a magic moment together.

He doesn't know if Alex will ever sing again. A part of him fervently wishes he could hear him again before he leaves.

Alex opens his eyes and sighs as the leans forward against the railing, letting the wind mess with his dirty hair. Nobody mentions or points out the fact that Alex had just sung, and besides him and Peter, Tommy doesn't think anyone else heard him.

The sun is completely down. It's colder now, and the mountains are now a trail of small rocks poking out of the sea, and Tommy and Alex have to go back in the cabin. But Peter doesn't say anything, and while his father serves tea after tea below them, the three of them enjoy the last minutes of light on his way to England.


End file.
